


a thorough examination

by erebones



Series: claurenz kink compendium [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Medical Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostate Examinations, Prostate Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:48:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25541629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erebones/pseuds/erebones
Summary: Lorenz has a very thorough doctor.
Relationships: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan
Series: claurenz kink compendium [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1791736
Comments: 82
Kudos: 154





	a thorough examination

**Author's Note:**

> just a bit of silliness i started a while ago and finally finished up. some consensual doctor/patient roleplay between boyfriends ;) this is NOT guaranteed to be accurate in any way lmao

The lab coat fits a little snugly in the shoulders as Claude comes into the bedroom, stifling his amusement behind his very unofficial-looking clipboard. Lorenz is sitting on the edge of the bed, back ramrod-straight, hands folded in his lap. As instructed, he’s freshly showered and dressed only in his plum-colored dressing down, which is wrapped nearly twice around his body and belted firmly at the waist. His bare toes flex nervously against the carpet as he avoids Claude’s eyes.

“Hello,” Claude says, as though he’s never met his boyfriend before in his life. “Mr. Gloucester?”

Lorenz’s throat bobs, and the corners of his mouth make a funny little curl, like he’s torn between a smile and a frown. “Lorenz is fine.”

“Ah, yes.” He pretends to check his clipboard. “Must be where the _L.H._ comes from.”

There is a chair pulled up to the bed for the purpose of sitting in, but he bypasses it to brace his arms against the back instead, scrutinizing his patient—his _patient_ ; another giggle struggles to break the surface of his composure, but he shoves it back down—with a bland, friendly professionalism.

“Date of birth?”

“Th-thirteen Garland Moon,” Lorenz whispers. “1160.”

“Your vitals look good,” Claude breezes onward, pretending to read from the blank clipboard. “Blood pressure is a little high, but we can take it again in a minute. It’s normal to be nervous,” he adds kindly. Lorenz ducks his head but doesn’t respond. “On your form it says you have concerns about prostate health. You’re a little young for regular exams, but if you’re worried, it’s probably best to just have a look and see what we see.”

Lorenz’s throat bobs and a faint flush begins to manifest on his cheeks. Embarrassed? Turned on? Probably both. “All right. Er, how should I…”

“Let’s have you on the bed—the examining table. You can keep your robe on.”

Despite his flub, Lorenz moves to obey, head ducking down between his shoulders as he braces himself hands and shoulders on the bed. Their plush comforter and plentiful pillows have been stowed away for now, leaving just the sheets pulled tight. Not as realistic as they could be, but it’s as close to an exam room table Claude is willing to invest in.

“Can you tell me a little bit about what brought you in today?” he asks, reaching for the box of disposable gloves he’d put on the side table earlier. He lets the plastic snap around his wrist audibly and smiles at his boyfriend’s minute shiver. “Have you been having any pain in that area? Any difficulty urinating?”

“N-not exactly.” On the bed Lorenz is stiff as a board, like he’s been turned to stone in between poses on his yoga mat. Then, perhaps recalling that he needs _some_ kind of excuse, he adds, “There is a bit of… discomfort. When I—when pressure is, er, put on that area.”

Claude hums. “I’m going to flip your robe up, all right?”

Lorenz gives an unsteady nod, and Claude draws up the hem of his dressing gown, folding it neatly over his back. His sacrum is smooth and pale, his narrow waist softening into a surprisingly soft backside. Claude lets his gloved hand rest against Lorenz’s hip, easing him into it.

“Can you describe the discomfort for me?” he asks. “Just so I have an idea before I start feeling around.”

Lorenz shudders slightly, but with his expression out of sight Claude isn’t sure whether it’s from arousal or poorly-concealed laughter. “It just feels… tender. Like a sore muscle. Not painful, really, just… present.”

“All right.” Claude produces a packet of medical-grade lubricant from his breast pocket with a flourish that only he can appreciate. He is _never_ going to tell Linhardt the reason for his request. “I’ll go slow, we don’t want to aggravate anything if there’s an issue. You may experience some discomfort, but if it hurts, let me know.”

Upon receiving another shaky nod, Claude puts his hand to Lorenz’s ass and pulls the left cheek aside to expose his hole and perineum. His hole is faintly pink from scrubbing, but tightly furled, and it twitches in the cool air of the room. He spares a brief moment to admire his heavy bollocks hanging beneath before squirting a bit of lubricant onto his finger and rubbing the tip against his entrance. Lorenz shivers.

“All right so far?”

“Y-yes, doctor,” Lorenz whispers. It’s the first time he’s addressed Claude as such, and though there’s a vague feeling of ridiculousness to it, something else twinges low in his pelvis. Or maybe that’s just from having his boyfriend’s asshole under his finger.

“It’ll be easier if you bear down a little,” Claude says matter-of-factly, swallowing past the thick bloom of arousal on his tongue. He increases the pressure of his finger, and after a moment or two of resistance it pops in all at once, just past the first knuckle. “Excellent. Now just relax. Take a deep breath for me.”

Lorenz obeys, sucking in air in a rush before remembering himself and easing it out slow. When Claude ducks his head he can see his dick hanging heavy between his legs, foreskin fully retracted to expose the pink head. He smiles and eases his finger in deeper. The lube is a little thicker than the stuff they normally use, and it takes a moment for it to warm to Lorenz’s body, but when it does it’s slippery and inviting. He forgets himself for a moment, rubbing just inside with the pad of his finger before remembering what he’s doing.

“Turn your head and cough,” he instructs. Lorenz huffs—this time he’s _sure_ it’s suppressed laughter—but he obeys, and Claude’s finger is compressed by his inner walls as his body flexes with the motion. And, more importantly, he can feel his prostate clearly against the pad of his finger. _Just like the eHow article said_. “Good. Was that painful?”

“No, doctor.”

 _Hells. Why is that so hot?_ “And when I palpate a bit, like this,” he says, and does so, making gentle circles around the area, “how does that feel?”

“It feels—” Lorenz chokes, internal muscles clamping around him again as he bows his head. “It’s a bit, um, strange. Does it feel inflamed?”

Claude hums and gives him a good rub back and forth, pretending not to notice when Lorenz tips his ass back into his hand invitingly. “It doesn’t feel particularly warm, but it might be a bit swollen…”

“Really?” A note of real concern infuses Lorenz’s voice, and he turns his head to peer back over his shoulder. Claude gives his finger a meaningful wiggle. _Not a real doctor, remember?_

“I’m not quite sure. I’ll have to examine a little further.” He withdraws his finger and applies more lube. “It’ll be easier for me to feel it with two fingers. It might sting a little, so tell me if you’re uncomfortable and I’ll stop, okay?”

Lorenz agrees, and two fingers go in with just a bit of stretch and a sigh that Claude doesn’t think is from pain. He lets his left hand massage Lorenz’s arse just a little bit as he soothes the rim to softness and presses in to the second knuckle. Lorenz’s prostate is there waiting for him, like it always is, small and slightly firm and—as far as he can tell—perfectly healthy. But he gives it a good, slow rub anyway, smiling when Lorenz rocks his hips slightly into the pressure.

“Tell me about your sex life,” he says conversationally. “Do you have any partners?”

“Ah… yes,” Lorenz says, his voice muffled by his forearms. He’s given upon the all fours position, apparently. Claude circles the gland beneath his fingertips before giving it another direct prod. Lorenz’s toes curl. “Just—just the one.”

“Exclusive?”

“Yes. For four years. We both—hnn—have regular checkups.”

“Good, that’s good,” Claude says breezily. “Do you ever engage in anal penetration?”

Lorenz sputters, but another meaningful press against his insides corrals him. "I… yes."

"How often? And how… roughly?" Claude rubs over the gland meaningfully, and smiles when Lorenz gives in and moans softly into his folded arms.

"F-fairly regularly," he stammers. "Maybe um… once or twice a week?" He pauses for breath, and Claude withdraws a bit, waiting to see whether he remembers the other part of the question. "He is… quite gentle with me. I have to encourage him to be rougher, which… I enjoy."

His voice is growing softer and thinner, the way it does when he's straining to maintain his composure. Claude swallows—when did his mouth get so dry?—and presses back in, the movement straining the already flimsy excuse of an examination. “Regular anal penetration isn’t bad for you,” he says, repeating what his own doctor had told him last time he went in for a check-up. “But it’s important to recognize the body’s limitations. Repeated, aggressive pressure for long periods of time can cause complications—but I will say, you feel quite hale and healthy from what I can tell.” He cocks his head for a better view as he withdraws slowly, fingers spread to stretch Lorenz’s rim. His boyfriend’s thighs quiver with exertion and Claude smirks. “Is your partner… well-endowed?”

Lorenz chokes. His next inhale is thready and ragged, hitching at the sound of more lube being squirted into Claude’s hand. “H-he is. Yes, very much so.”

Pride sizzles under Claude’s skin and he rewards him with a slow, inward push three digits wide. “A good thing that he’s so conscientious, then.”

He draws his wrist back and then forward again, keeping that same maddening pace. Lorenz is pushing back against him in earnest now, any traces of realism dissolving before his very eyes; if Claude listens close, he can hear the thin sound of Lorenz breathing through his mouth, trying desperately to be quiet.

Just when Lorenz’s breaths are starting to gain a high-pitched, feral quality, Claude removes his fingers and the glove with a satisfying _snap_. “Well!” he says brightly, to cover the thick arousal clogging his throat, “you seem quite healthy, Lorenz. My professional advice would be to take a break from anal sex, perhaps for a week or so, and see if the tenderness improves. If it doesn’t, we can have you in again for a more in-depth exam.”

Lorenz sags as though every tension in his body has loosed at once, and he lets out an almost disappointed-sounding whine. “Is that… is that all, doctor?”

Claude regards him, blood pulsing hot in his veins. His boyfriend’s robe is still flipped up, exposing his round backside, flushed a little, his hole loose and shiny with lubricant. Claude toys with the hem of the robe a moment before pushing it farther up. He lets his palm spread wide against his spine on the downstroke and tucks his thumb between Lorenz’s cheeks, spreading them with hands bared.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he murmurs. He rubs his thumb over Lorenz’s hole to feel it twitch, slick and hot; when he presses inside all the way to the knuckle, the warm slippery snugness of it has him fumbling left-handed with his belt buckle. “Your boyfriend won’t mind?”

Lorenz quivers and tucks his face into the crook of his elbow. “I think he’ll enjoy it almost as much as I will.”

Claude’s eyebrows shoot up and he bites back a grin. _Saucy, Lorenz._ But he’s not wrong. Claude is _thoroughly_ enjoying himself as he slicks his bare cock with the thick, unfamiliar lubricant and pushes smoothly into Lorenz’s body without pause. It’s so fucking good, hot and tight in spite of his rigorous fingering. He braces his knee on the edge of the mattress and snaps his hips, hands tight around his boyfriend’s narrow waist, and Lorenz wails into the mattress.

“Fuck,” he grunts, letting himself be a little rougher, just the way Lorenz likes it. “You’re so fucking tight, baby.”

Cheesy, but it has Lorenz gagging and clawing the sheets, ass tipped up as far as it’ll go. Claude grins and shoves his sweaty hair out of his face, cursing the snug lab coat—it restricts his range of motion in the shoulders, but he’s too close to bother taking it off. He bends forward, nuzzling the nape of Lorenz’s neck.

“Such a good boy,” he mumbles, grinding deep, every thrust slapping his balls against Lorenz’s taint. He reaches down and finds his cock dangling, slippery at the tip, and gives it a few sloppy jerks with the hand still oily from lube. “C’mon, baby, be a good little slut. Let me feel you cum.”

Lorenz tenses around him and cries out. It only takes a few more pumps of his cock, a few more deep, grinding thrusts, and he’s cumming in Claude’s hand, thick and sticky as it shoots between his fingers and soils the sheets. Claude groans at the feel of it, brings it to his mouth to suck his fingers clean. The taste, the tight clutch of Lorenz’s body around his dick, drives him to the brink. He fucks him hard through the aftershocks and cums inside him just as Lorenz’s panting breaths are starting to strain with oversensitivity.

“Fuck.” He smears what’s left of Lorenz’s spunk against one pale thigh and grits his teeth at the last few pulses of orgasm draining him dry. When he finally eases back on shaky legs, a thick ribbon of his own cum dribbles out after his cock, drooling down Lorenz’s perineum. Claude scoops it up with two fingers and pushes it back in, and Lorenz whimpers. “Shhh. Can you keep it in?”

“I… hh… I’ll try.”

“Here. Maybe this will help.”

This wasn’t part of the plan. Claude keeps his ears pricked for a rebuttal, or a safeword, but Lorenz stays put, ass in the air, as Claude fishes a butt plug from his coat pocket and pushes it into Lorenz’s slack hole. When it’s seated, he tugs the plum-colored dressing gown back down and does up his own fly.

“A nice surprise to take home to your boyfriend,” he says, and Lorenz laughs a little, tipping over onto his side.

“Thank you, doctor,” Lorenz murmurs as he eases carefully into a seated position. His face is still glowing with orgasm, flushed and dewy, the hairs at his temple all in disarray; his robe threatens to fall off one shoulder entirely. Claude reaches out and straightens it, and Lorenz tips his chin up with a smirk. “Your thoroughness is… appreciated.”

“Just doing my job.” Claude doesn’t know how he manages to get it out without laughing. Being breathless over how goddamn beautiful his boyfriend is certainly helps. He leans in and swallows a sigh of relief when Lorenz lets him kiss him, warm and familiar—familiar like this entire session _wasn’t_. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into these things.”

Lorenz arches an eyebrow, heavy-lidded. “Are you really going to pretend you didn’t enjoy it?”

“Of course I enjoyed it.” With tacit permission given, Claude steps back and wrangles himself free of the damned lab coat—then, still feeling overdressed, his button-down shirt and slacks. When he comes back to bed, it’s to lay on it properly, with Lorenz snuggled up to his side. Silk against bare skin. He puts his arms around him and slides one down to pull lightly at the plug. “I always enjoy making you feel good.”

“And taking control.” Lorenz’s eyes gleam, like he knows something Claude doesn’t. Which is ridiculous, of course Claude knows he likes to hold the reins most of the time; unless it’s Lorenz, the only partner he’s found where he can let himself be completely overtaken, held, pinned, restrained, fucked, _loved_. Oh. “Maybe,” Lorenz says, “you’d like to swap roles next time?”

Claude’s eyes narrow, and he pushes the plug a little deeper to watch Lorenz gasp and squirm. “We’ll see,” he says, but Lorenz just laughs, knowing what he really means is _fuck yes._


End file.
